


Babied

by RuckyStarnes (GracieForeth)



Series: Clint Barton One Shots [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 05:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16847875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracieForeth/pseuds/RuckyStarnes
Summary: Clint comes home battered and bruised from a mission, but instead of you babying him, he is insistent he babys you back to health since you had come down with illness before he arrived.





	Babied

“Here,” Clint said softly, holding out a rather large mug, filled with steam. “Made it just how you like it: two shots, tablespoon of honey, half a lemon, and earl grey. I got chicken soup on the stove warming.” He placed a hand on your forehead, his nose crinkled at how warm you felt to him. “Now, I’ll be back. I got something to do. Drink it slow.” You nodded your understanding, throat too sore to really respond with the love and thankfulness you really felt. You watched him leave before taking a tentative sip of the burning contents, shoulders relaxing when the hot liquid moved along your throat, soothing the dry, burning sensation that has had plagued you for almost a week now.

Strep throat sucked balls. You fought an irritating hoarseness and sore throat for almost a week before you went to the doctor. The test barely started when the swap changed color confirming the diagnosis, or what you considered as the plague. And it was a day before your boyfriend was scheduled to come home from a month long mission with no communication except for what Natasha would leak to you during your coffee dates. Now, here you were, twelve hours after Clint has come home, sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and drinking a hot tottie while he babied you.

And you hated every second of it.

The man had stepped off the quinjet, expecting you to be there to greet him, only to find out through Natasha that you were sick and contagious. One look at him and you were immediately guilt ridden that he was concerned about you. He had a swollen eye and a cut lip, an arm in a sling as he walked with a slight limp. Apparently mission went horrible for him, which was no surprise to you, but you wanted to nurse him, not him to be the nurse. But he was insistent that you did no such thing, only allowed to be wallowing on the couch as he hobbled around the apartment fixing you spiked tea and soup. Oh, and you weren’t allowed to talk either. He didn’t want you to strain your voice anymore than needed. It wasn’t a problem usually because Clint rarely wore his hearing aids when he got home, and you were fluent enough in sign language that you two made due.

You were lost in your pout party, sipping away at the hot drink that you didn’t notice that he had come back with a bowl in his hand.

“Come,” he smiled, “I have the perfect place for us to recuperate together.” He went to offer his hand, but the winced once he did, realizing that he had injured his shoulder. His face fell that he couldn’t help you, but you shrugged off the blanket and stood, taking the bowl from him and nodded for him to lead the way. He had walked you past your shared bedroom towards the backroom that you used for gaming and reading. When he opened the door, you smiled as you looked around. He had busied himself with, what seems since he got home, building a fort with every available pillow and chair that you had, minus the couch cushions, and it was draped in two king size sheets. You could see a soft glow being emitted through the dark colored cloth and you looked at him quizzically, free hand shaking slightly by your side as to ask what it was.

“C’mon,” he chuckled, “you never wanted to have a fort when you were sick? It’s all Barney and I did when we were kids. Mom use to get so mad that we would take every available cushion, pillow, chair, and blanket to make an epic fort in our room. She caved and bought this gigantic canvas and rope so we could just string it up anytime we want.”

You smiled as Clint reminisced, something he rarely did with his family. You signed ‘thank you’ and moved to entrance of the fort, looking inside to see that he had moved your overstuffed bean bag from the bedroom to it. Standing once more, you downed the rest of the cup, setting it on the small table by the door, and moved to crawl in, turning to hold your hands out for the bowl so he would be able to enter easier. You got comfortable on the bean bag, grabbing the throw blanket he got you for your birthday last year and waited for him to join. It took a bit for him to maneuver himself inside, making you giggle which earned you a playful scowl. He settled on the floor next to you, his head on the bag near your knee.

“Well, aren’t we a sorry ass couple,” he chuckled, pressing his lips against your bared knee before covering it with the blanket. “You just need another twelve hours of rest before you can baby the shit out of me. I know it’s killing you not being allowed to help me, but I rarely get to take care of you without a complaint. OW!” He rubbed his head where you had swatted him, turning to look at you which you gave him a playful look before taking a spoonful of soup. “Love you too, little sparrow,” he chuckled, resting his head back down and closed his eyes. “Eat and maybe I can figure out a way to include the TV in here and we can play some Mario Party or something. I’m just nixing the option of Mario Kart. You screw me so much over in that game.”


End file.
